


Taking Care

by BuddhistBabe



Series: Misunderstandings [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Prays to Castiel, Dean Ships It, Dean likes to cook, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, Misunderstandings, Shmoop, Sleep Deprivation, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-19
Updated: 2015-01-07
Packaged: 2018-02-13 21:23:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2165712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuddhistBabe/pseuds/BuddhistBabe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam is worried that Kevin isn't getting enough rest because of his nightmares, so he offers to let Kevin sleep with him in his bed so he'll feel safe. Kevin enjoys it more than he thinks he's suppose to. Sam is trying really hard not to seduce Kevin, and failing miserably. Dean is weirded out, but immediately joins the hunters chapter of pflag.</p><p>Basically lots of fluffy pre-slash cuddles, and misunderstandings like woah.</p><p>Also, a common theme in this is that Dean likes to cook. Don't know if there's a tag for that.</p><p>Written for NocturnalCharmer's prompt: "Probably the biggest cliche for Sevin, but Sam taking care of Kevin in the bunker after the prophet pushes himself too far. "Taking care" can mean whatever you like~"</p><p>Although I feel at this point I've gone so completely off their original intentions (and hijacked it on behalf of the destiel fandom) that I ought to be ashamed of myself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What goes giggle in the night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NocturnalCharmer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NocturnalCharmer/gifts).



> The little intro scene gave me trouble. If it sounds strained its because I started writing from the middle, then realized I had to do some set up outside my head, so tried to sum it up as quickly as i could. 
> 
> There's no porn in this chapter.

“You need to go to bed. Get some sleep.” Sam urged.

“It doesn’t matter.” Kevin snapped, looking up from the table where he had been glaring at the angel tablet, “I lie down in bed, I have nightmares that keep me awake. I’d rather be productive.”

Sam was quiet for a few moments, as he surveyed Kevin’s appearance. Dark circles, hollow cheeks, hands shaking from exhaustion or too much caffeine. Probably both.

“Okay, this sounds weird, but…” Sam began. He rubbed the back of his neck and glanced sideways at the prophet, “when i was younger and had nightmares, I would sneak into Dean’s bed. He’d complain about it, but he’d let me have the pillow and he’d bunch up the blankets like a pillow for himself. When i’d wake up from another nightmare, my big brother was right there, so I felt protected and...to be honest, even today, though we don’t sleep in the same bed obviously, when we share hotel rooms and I can just glance over and see him there, It makes me feel better. Especially if i’ve been dreaming about him being dead.”

Kevin just stared at him, eyes half lidded with boredom, or maybe he just couldn’t quite keep them open all the way. He looked strained with annoyance and distaste, like even changing his facial expression was wearing him out, and he was even more annoyed at Sam for making it necessary to express his disdain.

“You need to sleep, Kevin.” Sam’s voice was serious and steady, leaving no room for argument “And if you have a nightmare and can’t get back to sleep, you should feel free to come to my room.”

“Is this a gay thing?” Kevin asked, deadpan.

“No! I just want to take care of you!”

“That sounds like a gay thing.”

“It’s not a gay thing!” Sam insisted, flustered, “Look, if you have a nightmare you shouldn’t have to be alone! You can come wake me up and we can go drink hot chocolate in the kitchen, or you can just climb into bed with me.  That way, if you wake up again, I’ll be there to fight off whatever demons or monsters are trying to hurt you in your dreams.”

“Yeah, thanks, but no thanks.” Kevin said, rolling his eyes and returning to the tablet. Weird-ass Winchesters, constantly telling him to man-up while simultaneously trying to coddle him. It was like being on a rollercoaster made out of homoerotic subtext and daddy issues.

“Open offer.” Sam said with a sigh and a shrug, “but at least try to rest, okay?”

\---

Kevin sat in his bed, knees pulled up to his chest, running his fingers through his sweat soaked hair. He hadn’t bothered to turn on his bedside lamp yet, despite wanting nothing more than to turn on all the lights in the bunker and maybe go check that Crowley’s restraints were secure. He was stronger than this; better than this. He was smart, driven, and capable. Everyone had always said so.

But he couldn’t stop shaking.

Kevin sighed, slipping out of bed to go relieve himself. Coming out of the toilet, he stared at his rumpled bed longingly for a moment before dragging on a pair of basketball shorts over his boxers and pulling a thin tshirt over his head. His hand was on the bottle of pills, ready to pop a couple and just bury himself in the angel tablet once more, when he remembered what Sam had said. He slowly set the bottle back where he kept it on his bedside table, leaving his room without his usual security blanket of uppers thrumming in his veins.

Kevin made his way to Sam’s bedroom door, considering the options as he went. He didn’t have to sleep with the guy. Sam had said that he would just sit up with Kevin in the kitchen, if he wanted, so he wouldn’t have to be alone after his nightmare. Maybe he could even convince the hunter to bring their hot cocoa into the library while he worked on the angel tablet for an hour or two. Or at least walk him down there, so he wouldn’t have to navigate the narrow hallways with their creepy industrial lighting by himself.

“Kevin?” Sam asked, opening the door a crack at Kevin’s tentative knocking.

“Hey, you said-” Kevin cut himself off, feeling suddenly mortified now that he was face-to-face with a sleep rumpled Sam.

Sam was impossibly tall, taller than usual, like somehow the one or two inches Kevin’s shoes gave him during the day became six in stocking feet. He felt heat rise up his neck and color his cheeks when he realized that Sam was in only boxers and a tshirt, quite possibly the least amount of clothes he’d ever seen him in. Where Dean wandered the bunker with his bathrobe wide open, terry cloth belt dragging behind him like a tail, Sam always left his room with his boots on. His long hair, which even during the day wouldn’t have met Mrs. Tran’s standards of ‘tidy’, had been tousled to near obscene levels by sleep.

“Oh, hey, yeah.” Sam said, voice tender with realization, “Yeah. Come on in.”

Kevin should have corrected the assumption right away. Should have asked for the escort down stairs like he had planned. Instead, he let his feet take him through the doorway.  Sam closed the door behind him, and there he was: officially spending the night in Sam’s room.

It was almost identical to Kevin’s, except the bed’s headboard was facing the opposite wall. It wasn’t a very big bed, made even smaller when Sam laid back down on it, tucking his long limbs in on himself, trying to take up as little space as possible. He padded the spot he’d made invitingly.

“You can have the side without the lump.” Sam said, his voice awash with affection and humor.

If Kevin had gotten even one full night’s sleep that week, he might have thought better of it, but the idea of slipping between the sheets of such a warm looking bed was too alluring to pass up. He took the few steps between the doorway and Sam’s bed without tripping and falling, which was something, but climbing in he felt like every movement was stilted and strange. Like somehow how he held his arms to his chest, or crossed his legs at the ankles was giving him away.

 _Giving away what?!_ he asked himself angrily, _What_ exactly _are you so nervous about? This is fine. This is normal. Almost brotherly._

Kevin certainly did not think about the Supernatural fanfiction he had _accidentally_ run across which eluded to what exactly ‘brotherly’ could mean for Sam. He’d lived with both of them long enough to know that couldn’t possibly be true. Dean wasn’t gay, Sam wasn’t gay, and most importantly, Kevin wasn’t gay. So this wasn’t gay. Not in the least little bit.

Kevin tried to settle in as best he could, but it was incredibly awkward. They kept bumping elbows when they tried to lie on their backs, and their butts rubbed against each other when they’d tried facing away on their sides. It was all made worse by the squeaking and groaning of the mattress that seemed ridiculously loud in the otherwise silent bedroom. They compromised slightly with Sam on his back and Kevin lying on his side facing him, but he still had to keep his whole body taught and alert to avoid pressing his face into Sam’s shoulder.

“There was a tall man from Cornwall,” Sam began, voice smoother than it had any right to be so thick with sleep, “whose length exceeded his bed. ‘My body fits on it, but barely upon it, there’s no room for my big Cornish head!”

The tension in the room broke instantly. Kevin laughed before he could stop himself, not even forcing his voice into a lower octave the way he usually would. Sam’s chuckles complimented his own, low and musical, and then he gathered Kevin into his arms. Kevin smiled, and allowed himself to be cuddled against Sam’s chest, head resting on his shoulder, arm around Sam’s waist. In a moment of daring, he threw one leg over Sam’s, so that Sam was more or less lying in bed normally, with Kevin draped all over him.

“You are the man from Cornwall.” Kevin cheesed, loving the way he could hear Sam’s laughter in his chest, feel the vibrations of it through his body, “I don’t even know how you fit through doors.”

“I’ll have you know that I only hit my head on door frames once a month. Maximum.”

Kevin couldn’t help it, he laughed and curled in tighter to Sam’s side. The gangly Winchester usually smelled like green apples and old spice, like he’d just taken a shower, but right now he smelled earthy. Not stinky, just...manly. A human smell that instantly became Kevin’s sleepy-time aromatherapy. He sighed, and let himself melt in Sam’s arms.

Kevin felt himself drifting, and wasn’t sure whether the fingers carding through his hair were imagined or real.

\---

Dean was woken up by the knocking first.

He blinked into the dark of his bedroom and glanced over at his clock, confused when he saw the time was still well before sunrise. Not willing to waste time in case this was an emergency, Dean got out of bed and peaked out his door just in time to hear his little brother say “Come on in.” and then usher a nervous looking Kevin into his bedroom.

Dean shrugged and got back into bed, figuring it was some late-night nerd-thing. They were probably going to read or discuss Plato, or talk about what it felt like to fill out college applications. He grinned to himself, thinking of all the things Kevin and Sam really did actually have in common. Those brainiacs.

Then, he heard the mattress squeak from across the hall.

Dean sat straight up, eyes wide in the darkness, expression somewhere between horror and disbelief. He strained his ears, keeping as quiet as he could to make sure it wasn’t his own antique mattress he was hearing. Then the sound came again, very clearly a mattress and very clearly coming from his brother’s room. This time the squeaking was persistent, the telltale noise of two people moving into various positions on an unbalanced frame. He swallowed down the lump in his throat, because no, surely not.

Dean relaxed when the noise died down, telling himself he had obviously misinterpreted the sound.

But then he heard the unmistakable sound of his brothers voice. It was a low murmur so he couldn’t hear the words, but it was quickly followed by a bright, happy giggle that was clearly Kevin. There was a short back and forth, filled with soft laughter and less frantic noises from the mattress, and Dean could no longer deny it.

Dean had just heard his little brother fuck Kevin. He was like 85% positive.

“Son of a bitch.”


	2. The secrets we aren't keeping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam is clumsy. Kevin is smiling. Dean is okay with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short, but shmoop-rific
> 
> UPDATE: Ugh, in my eagerness to post, A LOT of this story has horrible, horrible grammar. I need a beta. But, in re-reading, I was able to catch some tense mistakes and spelling errors. This chapter is much better now.

Kevin woke the next morning feeling more rested than he had in months. Possibly years. In all honesty, he wasn’t sure when he’d last gotten a good night’s sleep, even before he’d become a prophet. Although his life had become an endless, nightmarish, horror show of late, the lack of sleep wasn’t very new. His senior year of high school had been full of studying late into the night, then waking up early to practice the cello, before heading off to school or band practice or SAT prep.

Even more than rested, though, he felt calmer than he had in a long time. That strange nervous vibration at the edges of his awareness was gone, replaced by a warm, glowing contentedness. Sam’s bed was not comfortable, but Sam’s body was. His sleep shirt soft, and his toned body comfortable to lie against.

Kevin didn’t even mind Sam’s alarm, phone braying its harsh beeps at the two of them. His own went off at a similar time, and if he strained he could hear its echo down the hall. He should probably get up and go shut it off, but instead he just yawned and smiled, not yet ready to break whatever spell sleeping in Sam’s bed had cast upon him.

The young prophet was jostled when one of Sam’s long arms untangled itself from his waist and reached across his body to poke at the phone’s snooze button. The angle meant Sam held himself over Kevin’s body, long hair draping in Kevin’s face, looming large and imposing. It reminded Kevin suddenly that, no, Sam wasn’t imposing, Kevin was. Kevin was in Sam’s bed, and until a few moments ago, they’d been spooning. A familiar panic rose in Kevin’s throat, like he was going to scream or throw up.

After silencing the alarm, Sam flopped back down onto his tiny portion of pillow and smiled sleepily at Kevin.

“Do you want to come running with me this morning?” Sam asked, blinking lazily like a sleepy puppy.

For a moment, Kevin was dumbstruck. That had to be the last thing he'd thought Sam would say. Of course, Sam went running every morning, also taking some time in the bunker’s antique weight room whenever he could. But to invite him so casually seemed so unsuited to Kevin’s state of mind where he was half puddle of contentment, half self conscious lump.

“It’ll be good for you.” Sam said when Kevin failed to reply, “We’ll get up, go for a run and eat a good, big breakfast before you start work today.”

No, not casual. Casual was the wrong word. It was domestic.  

Still waiting for a response, Sam poked Kevin in the side until he wriggled and shoved his hands away.

“Alright! Alright!” Kevin whined, retaliating with a few tickling fingers to Sam’s washboard abs, visible where his shirt had rucked up during the night.

Sam sat up, grinning down at Kevin as he adjusted his shirt to protect his midriff from the onslaught. Kevin did his best to not be disappointed, reminding himself again that _neither of them were gay_ and silently thanking a God that seemed to have otherwise abandoned him, that his shorts were loose enough to disguise his morning wood. He was quickly distracted from both thoughts, however, when Sam attempted to get out of bed, caught his ankle in the blankets and face-planted on his bedroom floor.

There was a moment of silence, then Sam clawed his way back onto the bed like a man hanging on to the edge of a cliff. His face came over the crest of the mattress, eyes wide and mouth in a taut grimace, hair sticking up everywhere, all shell shocked from the unexpected drop in altitude. Kevin completely lost it, slapping the mattress and holding his stomach as he roared with laughter. Seeing Kevin’s reaction, Sam’s face broke into a bright smile that reached his eyes and made him look even more handsome than usual. 

“I’m glad I can make you laugh.” Sam said, chin moving awkwardly against the mattress since he still hadn’t moved, “Even if it only ever is because I’m all gangly and clumsy.”

“You’re just too big for this world, Sam.” Kevin said cheerfully, his smile so huge it was starting to hurt his cheeks.

Sam finally did stand up, sitting on the edge of the bed, still looking at Kevin like he was the only thing in the world. Kevin knew that he should feel uneasy and hunted like he usually did for being stared at that long, but he was basking in it.

“Come on.” Sam said, patting Kevin’s chest and then offering the same hand to help him get up, “I’ll make you a deal: you eat a good breakfast, I’ll run slow enough that you can keep up.”

“I can barely keep up with you when you walk!” Kevin groused, but it had none of his usual venom and he took Sam’s hand eagerly.

Sam’s hand was warm, calloused and enormous. He hauled Kevin out of bed and onto his feet like he weighed exactly the same as a half-full dufflebag, but he handled him with far greater care.  Kevin was actually surprised when he stayed upright, because his whole body felt like it was made of something too fluffy and light to support its own weight.

He still couldn’t stop smiling.

-

Dean liked to cook. He was good at it, and he liked doing things he was good at when he felt uneasy. It gave him that extra boost of reassurance that he was a capable person with a solid skillset. So, for breakfast he made chocolate chip pancakes, crispy bacon, sausage and scrambled eggs. He eyed the spread for a short time, and then went ahead and put out bananas and sliced up some apples to satisfy Sam’s health nut kick.

It wasn’t until he’d set out the three plates on the kitchen table  and he heard two sets of feet trundling down the stairs, that he realized he should have let Sam or Kevin cook. That’s how hook ups work: one of you makes breakfast in the morning and the other one gets to take big dramatic bites and proclaim its culinary brilliance. Shit. He’d taken that ritual away from his brother without even meaning to.

That was why Dean was still standing awkwardly in the middle of the kitchen, holding a spatula and staring at the food he’d made, when Kevin and Sam finally came through the doorway. Neither of them seemed to notice Dean's odd behavior. They were both still in their sleeping clothes and the rareness of that was as world-view tilting as the arm Sam had slung casually over Kevin’s shoulders. Kevin was laughing, genuine and bright, at something his baby brother had said and Sam’s face was alight with pleasure at the sound.

“You read my mind!” Sam told Dean emphatically, grabbing up two plates and piling them high with equal portions of everything.

“I can make my own plate.” Kevin whined, but he sat at the table, leaning his chin on his hand and grinning. As Dean watched, Kevin’s eyes traveled the full scope of his brother’s body.

“What use is it for me to tell you to clear your plate if I don't make sure it has enough food on it in the first place?” Sam demanded, coming back to the table and setting one of the full plates in front of his presumed lover.

“You expect me to eat as much as a giant who could bench press me?”

“I will bench press you if you don’t finish that.”

“Kevin Tran: Workout Equipment.”

“Patent pending?”

Dean expected them to lean across the table and start making out any second. Which should have grossed him out, but Dean was surprised to discover that it didn’t. Instead, he watched them from his from behind his own plate, piled higher with food than either of theirs, and wished they _would_ touch. He was annoyed when Kevin laid his hand flat on the table next to his plate and Sam didn’t put his hand over it. He was sad when Kevin’s eyes slipped down to Sam’s lips, but he didn’t pull the other man in for a kiss. Dean couldn’t help but wonder if it was because he was there.

Of course it was because he was there, but his fear was that it wasn’t because _someone_ was in the room with them, but because _he_ was in the room with them. That Sam and Kevin were deliberately keeping this from him because they were afraid of how he would react. That hurt.

Kevin and Sam left the kitchen after clearing their plates (leaving the cleaning up to Dean  _as usual_ ), the faint sounds of their laughter trailing after them, but Dean lingered to get a third helping of sausage. It was appetizing, but he just poked at it, thoughts and emotions swirling through his head. The worry for his brother, the confusion about something occurring which he had not anticipated, the guilt that they weren’t as happy as they could be and that was somehow his fault.

He’d never known Sam to be into men, even in that distant appreciation way Dean himself could (begrudgingly) relate to. Still, Kevin was petite, even slender, with hardly any facial hair. He might not have anything even resembling breasts, but Dean could admit, if only to himself, that the prophet had a pretty face. Their height difference was ridiculous, but maybe Sam was into that.

Kevin also loved books the same way Sam did. He was smart like Sam, dedicated and intelligent.

He could see the two of them, cuddled up in the same chair reading together, or playing footsie under the table while they did some research. Dean imagined coming back from a hunt and watching Kevin run into Sam’s arms, pleased he was safe and home. By the time Dean realized he was daydreaming about his brother being boyfriends with Kevin, he was already smiling.

He had to find a way to let them know he was okay with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, feel free to correct my grammar, spelling, and assumptions in the comments. I am here to learn.


	3. Awkward boners

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: My angst powers are sometimes involuntary. I promise this is an isolated incident in this fic and the fluff will resume momentarily, along with the long-promised smut.

Kevin slept in Sam’s bed almost every night that week. The only exception was when he’d been on his way to Sam’s room, saw Dean poke his head out his bedroom door, and rerouted to the bathroom just in time. He hadn’t gotten much sleep that night, but it was worth it when Sam had noticed the dark circles the next morning and insisted he start coming to his room first thing after Dean went to bed.

“There’s no reason for you to get nightmares at all, if we can help it.” Sam said sincerely, while Kevin tried to concentrate on his words rather than the fact that he was sitting on the corner of the table, pert butt three inches away from the angel tablet and Kevin’s fingers.

“Yeah, but then I could end up being in your room for no reason.” Kevin said evenly, voice no longer what it had once been, thick with irritation or hurried from stimulants.

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take.” Sam said with a hint of humor at the edge of his voice.

Kevin couldn’t help but blush at that. He had just been given permission from Sam to sleep with him every night without needing an excuse, for an undetermined amount of time. It made him feel like there was some kind of light source under his skin, shining out of every pore and trying to beam out of his mouth in a smile that was getting harder and harder to suppress. Sam didn’t seem to notice though, patting him on the shoulder reassuringly before getting up to go back to cataloging the storage room.  

So that was how it was for days. As the evening winded down, Kevin would go to his bedroom and get ready for bed. Then, once he was sure the coast was clear (meaning that Dean was safely out of sight), he would tiptoe down the hall and knock as quietly as he could on Sam’s door. Then Kevin would spend the night wrapped up in six feet, four inches of warm muscle. If the feel of those strong arms around him, their legs intertwined, or the hot breath in his ear, affected him in ways that were better suited to alone time in the shower, Sam never noticed.  Advantages of being the little spoon.

It seemed that as long as Sam didn’t notice it, Kevin didn’t have to fully acknowledge it either. He could have gone on pretending that it was perfectly normal for two straight men to share a twin bed every night for as long as Sam would allow it. In fact, he intended to do exactly that. Kevin hadn’t had a single nightmare while wrapped up in Sam’s arms, and he was willing to tell himself whatever lies he had to to keep them from coming back.

He was so well rested in fact, that when the next wave of whatever-the-fuck prophetic clairvoyance hit him it wasn’t all that bad. He had the headache and the spins as usual, but once he put on his noise canceling headphones and gave himself over to it, the words came almost easily. Almost. It was still slow going, two or three words for a day’s work, but at the end of it he didn’t want to jab an icepick into his temple to relieve the pressure and that was an improvement.

When he took off his headphones and stretched his arms high above his head, he actually smiled. Three words wasn’t much, but it wasn’t nothing either, and he let himself feel a little proud. The self-congratulatory air left him, however, when he looked around and realized that not only was there no Sam and Dean around, but that all the lights in the library area were shut off except the lamp he had been working under. Kevin checked his watch and was surprised to find that it was nearly 2 AM. It had been a while since he’d stayed up this late.

Getting up, Kevin left the lamp on to help guide his way, because who cares? He was pretty sure they didn’t even have a light bill. Even if they did, it was probably under some false name linked to a fake credit card.

He didn’t even bother going to his room, choosing instead to let himself into Sam’s and strip down to his boxer briefs instead of bothering with pajamas. Kevin was pretty sure Sam wouldn’t think it was too weird, and it would be more comfortable than trying to go to sleep fully clothed. He shucked everything off and let it fall to the floor without bothering to fold or hang it up, a trail behind him as he made his way towards Sam’s sleeping form on the bed.

Sam was in only a pair of loose boxers, lying on his stomach, wrapped around his pillow like it was a teddy bear, long legs splayed out so that he took up every inch of the bed. Most of the covers seemed to have made it onto the floor. Sleep erased a lot of the lines on the older man’s face and his lips looked extra plump, relaxed and parted slightly. His boxers were stretched so that one thigh was visible all the way to the perfect curve of his ass.

Kevin stared for much longer than was appropriate before reminding himself that he was a) not gay and b) acting like a creeper. He didn’t want Sam thinking he was either of those things. The fact remained, however, that there was currently no room in the bed for him.

“Sam?” Kevin said timidly, poking one well toned shoulder.

It happened so quickly that for a few seconds, Kevin had no idea what was going on. One moment, he was leaning over the bed trying to wake Sam up enough to get him to roll over, the next, he was lying on his back, the full weight of the gigantic hunter atop him. Sam was holding Kevin’s wrists above his head, straddling his waist. His face was close to Kevin’s, so close Kevin could feel the tips of Sam’s hair against his cheek and the hot puffs of air on his lips as Sam panted form the sudden exertion.

A fierce tendril of fear ripped through Kevin at being restrained. He didn’t have to try to get away to know he couldn’t, but he did anyway, bucking his hips and straining his arms to try to get out of Sam’s grasp. Sam might as well have been carved from stone, not moving so much as an inch. Every muscle in Sam’s body was taught, the normal dips and plains even more pronounced as he held himself above the much smaller man. Kevin whimpered, going lax as the fight left him, and arousal bloomed in his belly in its wake. His cock hardened, straining against the fabric of his underwear, mercifully out of sight behind Sam’s muscular thighs.

The worst part was, his first thought wasn’t ‘I’m not gay’ it was ‘He’s going to realize I’m gay.’ and somehow that was most frightening of all. That there wasn’t a question, a denial in his mind. That from one moment to the next, he had simply accepted it, and in that same moment of realizing his terrible secret, it was in danger of getting out.

“Oh shit, Kevin!” Sam’s eyes were suddenly wide and frantic “Oh my god, Kevin I’m so sorry!”

Sam sat up, weight resting on his heels, releasing Kevin’s wrists. Kevin brought them to his chest, rubbing the red marks idly.

“It’s fine. It’s fine.” he muttered.

“No, it’s not fine. Kevin, jeese…” Sam ran a hand through his hair, and God, why was every little thing he did so damn attractive?

“I said ‘it’s fine’. It’s fine.” Kevin repeated, trying to figure out how to slide out from under Sam’s legs without bumping his hard cock against the man ass.

“No, it’s not, Kevin! I’m supposed to make you feel safe, not hold you down and-” Sam’s whole face was scrunched up in remorse, “It’s hunter’s reflex, you know? But, man, I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to stop sleeping with me...”

“I said it’s fine!” Kevin realized he’d shouted a moment too late and froze, waiting for the sound of footsteps and Dean bursting through the door, gun drawn.

When that didn’t happen, he swallowed and tried again.

“I’m sorry. I should have knocked first, but it’s late. I didn’t want to wake you up if I didn’t have to.” Kevin whispered. He closed his eyes, trying to will his erection away.

“Don’t apologise.” Sam said sternly, “This isn’t your fault.”

“Please just…” Kevin took a deep breath, “get off me.”

As soon as Sam’s weight lifted off him, Kevin quickly turned onto his side and brought his knees up to his chest. He tucked the tip of his erection into the waistband of his underwear as covertly as he could, then swung his legs over the opposite side of the bed from Sam and sat up. He took a couple deep breaths and tried to get himself under control, but it was futile.

“Kevin, I am so, so sorry.”

Kevin didn’t have to look at Sam to know he was wearing a pair of the biggest puppy dog eyes possible, so he didn’t. Sam was less than a foot away, looking gorgeous and messy, and nearly naked. It was too much to bare, so he kept his eyes on his feet and the floor below.

“Kevin…” Sam began again, but it didn’t sound like he had any idea of what to say, so the silence simply dragged on behind his name. All Kevin could think was what it would sound like as a gasp on Sam’s lips, and then had to remind himself that the goal was to get less turned on, not more.

If he could only get himself soft enough to stand up and walk over to his pants, he would be homefree. But he’d stripped down close to the door, and on the other side of the bed besides. To reach them, he would not only have to stand and walk, but face Sam full-frontal.

“Can you…” Kevin’s voice cracked when he spoke, and the false start was almost more mortifying than the question, “Can you hand me my clothes?”

There was a beat of silence, and Kevin worried that Sam was going to ask why he couldn’t just get them himself, but then he just said:

“Yeah, sure.” and rose off the bed to collect them.

Sam came over to where Kevin was sitting to hand them to him. Kevin hunched over and covered his lap with his hands, hoping he wasn’t being as obvious as he felt. He still couldn’t bring himself to look at Sam, but he was close enough Kevin could smell him. The distant scent of tart apples and heavier musk of skin did nothing to relieve Kevin’s straining arousal and only made him feel like a perve for reacting so strongly.

“Thanks” Kevin snatched his shirt and pants out of Sam’s hands and brought them into his lap.

Willing to take the risk rather than endure any more of this oppressively embarrassing atmosphere, Kevin stood and spun around in one motion, to put his back to Sam. He dressed quickly, trying not to bend over in any way that was provocative, but not being able to suppress the fantasy when he did.

Erection effectively disguised, Kevin nearly ran from the room.

\---

Dean heard the shout, then waited for the laughter, but it never came. He thought at first they’d finally learned to be a little quiet, but then Sam’s voice filtered through the crack at the bottom of Dean’s door and it became quickly apparent that was not the case.

“Kevin, no wait! Please!”

Dean blinked into the darkness, face hardened in concern. His brand-spanking-new memory foam mattress did not squeak when he sat up or when he scooted off the bed and into his slippers to see what was going on.

Dean opened his door enough to peer out and saw Sam’s bedroom door swing open, hitting the wall behind it hard enough that if the earlier shout hadn’t woken him up, this certainly would have. Kevin came flying out immediately after, completely dressed, with a nearly naked Sam close on his heels.

“Please, Kevin. I’m so sorry.” Sam begged, catching Kevin’s wrist to slow him down, “If you don’t want to sleep with me, that’s fine, but don’t go! I’ll sleep on the floor-”

“I’m fine.” Kevin jerked his wrist out of Sam’s grasp without looking at him. In fact, Kevin seemed to be looking everywhere but at Sam.

“But...your nightmares.” Sam said weakly, trying this time for Kevin’s shoulder.

“I said I’m fine!” Kevin yelped, wrenching out of the way of Sam’s hand before he could touch him and dashing down the hallway to his own bedroom.

Sam flinched when the Kevin’s door slammed shut. Sighing, he leaned his forehead against the door frame and stayed there for a few moments.

“Dammit.” Sam said softly, then slapping the wall once emphatically, retreated back into his bedroom.

Dean waited a few moments to see if either of them would come out of their rooms again, and when they didn’t, he too returned to his bed.

\---

The next morning, Dean went about making three frittatas: one mega meat, one way-too-many-veggies, and a plain egg and cheese one. He prayed to Castiel silently while he whisked eggs and diced bell peppers. He didn’t expect a reply, Cas hadn’t answered his prayers in weeks, but it had become a part of how he got through the day, like keeping a journal or writing letters to a lover who was serving overseas (The second one was just an example of the type of thing, but definitely not what he was doing with Cas). Nothing urgent, just his usual Hey Cas, how’s it going? My brother and his secret boyfriend are having a fight and I can’t comfort either of them cause then they’ll know I’ve been spying on them. How was your night? Dean was so caught up in explaining the pros and cons of confronting Sam about the fight he’d witnessed, and countering Cas’ unspoken responses, that he almost didn’t notice Kevin shuffling into the kitchen towards the coffee machine.

Kevin looked a mess. He was still wearing his clothes from yesterday, the same ones Dean had seen him flee Sam’s room in, except that he had no shoes. He wasn’t even lifting his feet properly, sliding his stocking feet across the floor as he trudged towards the promise of caffeine. He looked like he needed it too, dark circles under his eyes to match the stubble on his chin, deep frown and vacant gaze. He didn’t look very different from the majority of the time since they’d brought him home from Garth’s houseboat, but Dean had gotten so use to the bright and well rested Kevin of the past couple of weeks that the difference was startling.

“Hey, Special K!” Dean greeted, wearing the same face he’d used to trick Sammy into thinking everything was going to be okay since they were kids, “You know the great thing about this bunker being furnished in the 50s? The kitchen has three cast iron pans! We each get our own frittata. That’s like an omelette, only you bake it. Unless you tell me what you want now, I’m making yours plain. Speak now, or forever hold your bitchin’!”

Kevin barely reacted to Dean’s rambling, picking up one of the clean mugs Dean had set out and filling it to the brim. He spilled some coffee on himself when he took his first sip, but didn’t even seem to notice. Dean winced, hoping it hadn’t burned him.

“I’m not really hungry.” Kevin said finally, taking another sip and staring into the middle distance.

“You need to eat, Kevin.” Sam’s voice was soft, but it still made them both jump.

“I’m fine.” Kevin said, clearing his throat and rolling his shoulders like he was trying to look and sound a little more put together, “Got a few words out of the tablet yesterday. Don’t want to ruin my streak.”

“Kevin, please.” Sam said, voice still soft and fragile like tissue paper.

“I’m fine.” Kevin said. He glanced over at Dean, but still wouldn’t look at Sam, eyes falling to the floor as he passed him to leave. Sam looked like he was going to follow him, but Dean intervened, making a sound like a buzzer on a game show and gesturing for Sam to sit at the table.

“You guys having a fight?” Dean asked, turning back to his chopping, green onions this time. He knew the answer of course, but Sam didn’t know that.

“It’s not..I’m not...yeah. I guess.”

“That bad, huh?”

Sam ran his hands through his hair, pushing the long strands away from his face. Now that Dean was really looking at him, he look almost as bad as Kevin. Disheveled, tired, and sad.

“Shit.” Dean said said, surveying his brother, “It is that bad. Dude. What the hell happened?”

Sam met his gaze, and his eyes were full of guilt and regret, mouth set in a hard line.

“He came into my room while I was asleep. He tried to wake me up, and…” Sam swallowed, “I reacted.”

Dean dropped what he was doing and came over to sit opposite his brother.

“Did you pull a gun on him?” he asked, voice low and eyebrows draw together in all seriousness.

“No, thank God.” Sam sighed pitifully, “But I jumped him. Held him down. I basically woke up with him underneath me, trying to get away, looking…” another long sigh, this time with a catch in it like he might cry if given the provocation, “scared. Scared of me.”

“Aw, dude.” Dean said sympathetically, for lack of anything better.

“He won’t even look at me!” Sam told his brother, whole face absolutely slathered in remorse and self-hatred, “Every time I get near him he flinches like an abused dog!”

“Kid’s been through a lot.” Dean reasoned, “He’s bound to not have a great reaction to something like that. But I’m sure he knows it wasn’t intentional.”

“It doesn’t matter! He’s supposed to feel safe with me!” Sam hissed, touching his palms to the center of his chest and then letting them fall useless onto the table, “I...just want to take care of him. Protect him. Make him feel like he doesn’t have to be afraid as long as I’m there.”

Nightmares, Dean remembered suddenly, “But...your nightmares.” Sam had said last night. Getting laid wasn’t the only reason Kevin had been looking better lately, Sam had been making him feel less afraid at night.

“Give it a bit.” Dean said, doing his best to radiate a positivity he wasn’t feeling as he rose to finish making breakfast, “He’ll come around.”

Sam rolled his eyes and said nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Misunderstandings abound, eh? I wonder when I'll get around to doing something about that...


	4. None of us are 'Fine'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you ready for some reversed role hurt/comfort? Don’t say I never did nothin for ya.

Dean set a pot holder down next to Kevin’s workstation sneakily so the prophet wouldn’t notice, then proceeded to drop the cast iron pan full of eggs down ontop of it. The weight of it shook the table and made Kevin rip off his noise canceling headphones to gaze around wildly for the source of it. All he saw was Dean smiling smugly and giving him a wiggly fingered wave.

Kevin glared at him for a good measure before he turned his gaze to the eggs. The prophet winced when he saw them, then rolled his eyes at Dean.

“I said I’m not hungry.” He spat, settling back in his chair and crossing his arms, “And you’re a dick.”

“Sam thinks you should eat,” Dean shrugged, “and he’s the closest thing we’ve got to a nutritionist around here, so eat.”

Kevin glanced at the pan, the back up to Dean who was now holding out a fork . He ignored both the hunter and the utensil, turning back to the angel tablet and reaching for his headphones.

Dean’s expression soured. He snatched away the headphones before Kevin could properly fit them over his ears and began tapping the round curve of the fork against the young man’s forehead. Kevin let out a frustrated noise and reached for the headphones but Dean easily held them out of reach, continuing to play the spoons on Kevin’s head until he grabbed the fork away from him.

“You are such a freaking jerk!” Kevin said through his teeth, but he jabbed the fork into the eggs and piled a comically large bite into his mouth, “Happy?” he asked, spraying eggs everywhere.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.”

Kevin rolled his eyes some more, but chewed obediently without talking. As soon as he swallowed the bite, he reached for his headphones. Dean wagged a finger in Kevin’s face and pointed at the frittata.

“Eat.” He commanded.

Kevin pouted, but took another bite. Dean waiting until Kevin had taken a third and his mouth was full before speaking again.

“You need to get your shit together, man.” He said coarsely, “I mean it.”

Kevin somehow managed to make chewing look sassy and disdainful. It was not a skill Dean was particularly impressed by, so he continued.

“You’re not the only one with issues here dude.” Dean let his concern for his brother bleed into his face, “Sam was at Stanford, on his way to law school, when a demon killed his girlfriend. He watched her die, and I had to physically drag him to the car to get him out of there and save his life. Sound like a familiar story to you? It should. It’s yours.”

Kevin swallowed and Dean waited.

“But you guys were raised hunters.” Kevin said, and although it sounded like an argumentative response, Dean heard the soft sympathy in his voice.

“Sam got out. He left, went to college, lived a normal life.” Dean shrugged, “Until Dad went missing, and Azazel killed Jessica. Since then, every time he’s tried to get out it’s backfired.”

“Like me being alone for a year.” Kevin said softly.

“And me being stuck in Purgatory.” Dean agreed.

Kevin took another bite, eyes looking into the middle distance as he chewed. Dean let him think, commending himself on what he considered to be remarkable patience.

“What brought this on?” Kevin asked finally.

“Sam told me what happened.”

“He did?!” Kevin sat straight up, eyes wide and panicked, voice just a tiny bit louder than necessary, “What did he say?!”

“That you woke him up and he attacked you.” Dean said slowly, raising an eyebrow. Kevin was definitely frightened, but there was something about his reaction that wasn’t a demons-coming-to-get-me kind of scared.

“Oh. Yeah. He um…” Kevin cleared his throat and shifted his weight uneasily in the chair, “It was my fault. Shouldn’t have even been in his room like that.”

It was Dean’s turn to roll his eyes.

“I don’t have time for this.” Dean said abruptly, “Sam’s upset that he scared you. If you want to continue to do whateverthehellitis you think I don’t know the two of you are doing, you need to man the fuck up and get over it. We all got issues. Yours do not take priority over everybody else’s.”

Dean tossed the noise cancelling headphones into Kevin’s lap and stomped off.

_Goddammit, Cas, I am not the gay love guru._

\---

Kevin was already awake when he heard Sam’s voice in the hallway. He got out of bed as quietly as he could and stumbled over to the door to peek out. Sam was in only his pajama bottoms, leaning heavily against one hand where it was holding him up against the wall. Kevin took a moment to appreciate how the string-tie pants hung low enough to expose the beginning of the deep hollows of his groin.

“Dean?” Sam called quietly, rapping his knuckles against his brother’s door, “Are you awake?”

“I am now! What the hell, Sam?!” Dean demanded, sticking his head out of his bedroom to glare at his little brother.

“I uh...I couldn’t sleep.”

Kevin’s heart sunk to the bottom of his stomach at the words. He leaned a little farther out of his room, trying to get a better look at Sam’s face. Instead, he caught Dean’s eyes and froze. Dean surveyed him covertly enough to not let on to Sam, but he clearly knew Kevin was there.

“Dude, you’re 30 years old.” Dean sighed, but there wasn’t as much of an accusatory tone in his voice, “You can’t climb into bed with your big brother any more. It’s weird.”

Dean passed a hard glance over at Kevin, before shutting his door in Sam’s face with a determined click. Sam sighed again, and turned around to head back to his room when he saw Kevin. They met eyes for the first time in days and he paused, swallowing hard.

“Hey.” Sam said quietly.

“Hey.” Kevin replied, opening his door a little wider to step out into the hall, “Couldn’t sleep?”

“Yeah, I just…” Sam pulled a hand through his hair and smiled humorlessly, “Bad dreams.”

“You want to talk about it?” Kevin offered awkwardly.

“No, it’s...it’s fine.” Sam let his breath out in a gust through his nose, “I’m fine.”

Kevin had certainly heard those words before.

“You want to…” he shrugged his shoulders, “come sleep in my bed?”

“I’d like that.” Sam’s face was like sunshine. His brows were still drawn tight from exhaustion and fear, but the corners of his mouth were turned up and his eyes were bright.

Kevin turned and headed back to bed, leaving the door open behind him for Sam to follow. His sheets were a balled up mess at the bottom of the bed, so he just flopped down on his back, throwing an arm over his eyes to keep himself from watching the adonis cross his bedroom. It was why he wasn't expecting it when Sam settled against him the way Kevin had with Sam that first night; head pillowed on Kevin's chest, long arms and legs draped around him like an octopus. Kevin raised his arm off his face and and looked down at the mess of chestnut brown hair under his chin.

“Is this okay?” Sam asked quietly, obviously feeling the way Kevin’s whole body had gone rigid.

“Ye-” Kevin faltered, “Yeah, it’s fine.”

Except that Kevin had absolutely no idea what to do with his hands. What had Sam done when they’d slept in his bed? Kevin experimentally let one arm fall over Sam’s bare shoulders, and the man relaxed significantly, so that must have been the right idea. He ran the fingers of his other hand through Sam’s hair, biting his lips together in anticipation of being shoved away, but Sam did nothing of the sort. If anything, he snuggled in closer, rubbing his cheek against Kevin’s chest and tightening the grip around his waist.

“I dreamed I killed Dean.” Sam said suddenly, voice soft and empty like he was farther away than he actually was.

“ _You_ killed him?” Kevin’s hand stilled. He had a lot of nightmares, but he’d never been the villain in any of them.

“Well, Lucifer did.” Sam said, “I watched my hands...and couldn’t stop it.”

Kevin said nothing, just went back to stroking Sam’s hair, hoping it was reassuring. Sam’s fingers twisted in the ribbed fabric of Kevin’s soft tshirt, not frantic but tight, like he was trying to anchor himself.

“Sometimes I wake up, and for the first few seconds, I’m sure it was one of my visions.”

“You get visions?”

“I use to.” Sam explained, “It started with dreams that would come true. Then I’d get these bad headaches in the middle of the day and see something happen, all cloudy and bright at the same time. We found a few cases like that, early on. When I’m half asleep, it’s easy to believe they’re back, and I’m seeing some future where I kill Dean.”

“You’re a prophet of the Lord?” Kevin asked, looking down at Sam in wonder. What he was describing was exactly what it felt like when he read the tablet.

Sam maneuvered so he could look up into Kevin’s eyes without taking his head of his chest. Dean and Sam both had green eyes, but Sam’s were darker and full of intelligence and sincerity. Kevin couldn’t resist caressing the knuckles of his hand against Sam’s cheek as he brushed the hair out of his face to see them better.

“More like ‘Prophet of the Devil,’ actually.” Sam said, wincing.

“Lucifer.” Kevin understood, “The headaches must be a universal prophet thing.”

“It was the same with Chuck.” Sam affirmed.

“And now he’s dead, so I guess that means you’re the only person alive who knows how I feel.”

Sam’s fingers let go of the hem of Kevin’s shirt, and instead started drawing idle little circles on his belly. It made tingles run all over Kevin’s body and he shivered. He could feel himself beginning to get turned on, but he didn’t want Sam to stop touching him. He was in serious danger of being desperate enough to rub against the inside of Sam’s thigh, craving the feel of it. He spoke as a means of distracting himself.

“It’s kind of romantic.” Kevin babbled, “In the traditional, literary sense, I mean. Sort of poetic. Clandestine. Prophet of the Lord and Prophet of Devil, living together.”

Kevin squeezed his eyes shut as tightly as they would go. He was so embarrassed he wanted nothing more than to just run away, but he didn't want Sam to still think he was afraid of him. Instead, he held himself stiffly, making himself take deep even breaths to cool the blush in his cheeks.

"Sounds more like the premise for a bad sitcom."

Sam stopped drawing the circles in favor of wiggling his fingers against Kevin’s tummy instead. It made Kevin buck and squirm, laughing as he batted Sam’s hands away. Sam propped himself up on his elbow and grinned down at Kevin.

“There’s that smile.” He said with a broad grin that showed off his dimples.

“You too.” Kevin said happily. He reached out to touch one of the inviting dips in Sam’s cheek before he caught himself.

“Making you smile makes me smile.” Sam said serenely, catching Kevin’s hand before he could pull it away.

Sam turned his back to Kevin, but kept a tight hold on his wrist, wrapping Kevin’s arm around his waist so that they were spooning. They were fitted perfectly from the waist down. Sam’s butt cradled by Kevin’s crotch, crook of their knees lined up, and ankles interlaced, but Kevin’s head only came to about to Sam’s shoulder blades.

“Your turn to keep _my_ nightmares away.” Sam mumbled, settling into the pillow and giving Kevin’s hand a little squeeze.

Sam kicked at the covers until they were thigh high, and then dragged them up and over both of them, only about waist high for himself, so that Kevin could still breathe. Sam’s awareness and consideration of their height difference warmed Kevin’s belly, and he nuzzled Sam’s back in appreciation. His lips brushed the firm muscle of Sam’s back, and he sighed, pressing a kiss there before he thought better of it. 

\---

Dean grinned when he heard Kevin invite Sam back to his room. 

_Huh. You hear that, Cas? Maybe I am the gay love guru after all._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my chuck flooooofly schmoopy fluff fantazum, yes? 
> 
> And poor Dean, he is so not equipped to deal with this.
> 
> Let me know if you spot any typos. I posted this literally minutes after typing the last sentence.


	5. Two Peas in a Closeted Pod

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. I officially started back at school and that has not helped my load at work, either. I will still try to get as much out for this fic as I can. This is my try to actually finish something that isn’t a one shot.
> 
> I also rewrote this chapter a couple different times, before finally deciding it was too destiel-centric, but those drafts have inspired a spin-off that will turn what was initially a one-shot into a series. We’re going to keep this one Sevin, and it is wrapping up soon.
> 
> I also added the Destiel tag because, fuck it. I usually hate it when I'm searching for a ship-specific fic and end up only getting it as a secondary ship, but it’s where my head space is when I'm writing this and if it's your notp, you have the right to know from the get-go.
> 
> No porn in this one either, but we’re close!

Dean was really getting the hang of pretending not to notice that Kevin and Sam were having sex. He even continued to make them breakfast most mornings, even though it still gave him a skeevy feeling. This morning was different, though, and he wasn’t going to let their ridiculous pretense bully him into cooking when there was perfectly good leftover frittatas in the fridge. He took his time with the shower, even giving himself a little self-love, something he hadn’t done (in the shower, that is) since he’d gotten his own room. He got completely dressed, checked his Google Alerts for possible cases, and put in a quick prayer to Cas, before he figured he’d given them long enough to enjoy the whole breakfast together thing without him. So, he was surprised when he found Kevin at the kitchen table alone, nibbling on a granola bar and sipping coffee.

 

“Where’s Sam?” Dean asked, trying to remind himself that it was ridiculous to get defensive about Kevin and Sam not being in each other’s presence 24/7.

 

“Weight room.” Kevin informed him placidly, “I believe today is ‘back and biceps day’”

 

Dean grimaced. His idea of a work out was dropping down and doing fifty push ups whenever the mood struck him, and not much more. Compared to that, Sam’s heavily scheduled workout regimen was downright obnoxious.

 

Dean scraped the uneaten half of the meat lover’s frittata onto a plate and put it in the microwave to nuke for a couple minutes while he poured himself a cup of coffee. He set the steaming mug opposite Kevin at the table, sitting across from him as he waited for his breakfast to finish heating up. As he watched, Kevin dunked his granola bar into his coffee (black, Dean noticed with a modicum of respect) and bit off the now sodden lump with relish.

 

“Gross.” Dean berated him good-naturedly.

 

Kevin just snorted, and didn’t say anything.

 

“I guess it’s about time I give you The Talk, huh?” Dean offered. Who knew when he’d next get a chance to talk to Kevin alone without the risk of Sam walking in.

 

“My Mom already gave me the birds and the bees talk, thanks.” Kevin retorted, slipping as easily into a fast-paced banter as ever.

 

“Bet she didn’t give you the gay version.”

“Do you know the gay version?”

“...shut up. You’ve got the internet, figure it out yourself.”

“Good talk.”

“That’s not the talk I meant.” Dean sighed, rubbing his thumb along his eyebrow distractedly.

“What, then?” Kevin looked suddenly wary.

“The ‘you hurt my brother and I kill you’ talk.”

“The..you..what?!” Kevin spluttered.

“It’s obligatory.” Dean explained, feeling that he was being exceptionally generous in offering the preamble at all, “He’s my brother. You guys seem serious, so I have to. Although to be honest, I’ve already pretty much considered you family for a while now, so I guess I’ll be giving him the same talk later.”

 

“Wait. No.” Kevin inisted, waving his hands in front of his face as though to push Dean’s words away, “We’re not. We’re not _serious_ like that.”

 

“You playing around?” Dean demanded gruffly.

“What?! No!”

“Then why aren’t you serious?”

“Because we’re not gay!”

Dean bit his lips together in an effort not to smile.

“We’re not!” Kevin insisted again.

“Then apparently you do need the gay birds and bees talk after all.” Dean reasoned, crossing his arms over his chest and grinning broadly.

“No-no-no.”

“When you look at my brother and you get that warm tingly feeling and your little friend stands at attention-”

“Please stop.” Kevin begged.

“-that means that your little friend wants to be friends with his little friend-”

“Dude.”

“And when he sticks his little friend in your no-no hole-” Dean made a lude gesture that left very little to the imagination.

“Holy shit, Dean shut up! I'm not gay!”

“...you’re going to want to use a lot of lube. I’m not kidding, like...more than you think you’ll need.”

“SHUT. UP.”

“Do you need condoms? Protection is important.”

“OKAY FINE! I’M TOTALLY GAY FOR YOUR BROTHER! HAPPY?” Kevin bellowed desperately. 

 

 _Beep-beep-beep._ The sound of the microwave broke the silent aftermath of Kevin’s confession. Dean didn’t get up right away, instead surveying the prophet’s panic stricken face with a small, genuine smile and bright eyes. For a moment he could see the boy Kevin had been when they’d first met him, wide eyed and innocent, afraid of everyone around him, yet completely unwilling to let go of the tablet even for a moment. When he saw Kevin swallow so hard it made his adam’s apple bob dramatically, he decided to give the kid a break and get up to get his plate out of the microwave.

 

“You’re not...I mean. You’re not going to…” Kevin faltered as he watched Dean retrieve his food and get a fork out of the silverware drawer with unhurried movements.

“...Going to...what?” Dean asked, returning to the table once more.

“...beat me up?” he winced.

“What the...Why would I beat you up? What did you do?”

“Nothing! Other than having a flaming homo crush on your brother.” Kevin mumbled the last part, which made Dean smile.

“Yeah, but it’s cool though, right? Since you guys are crushing on each other?”

“He’s not. Sam’s not...Sam doesn’t _like me like that_.”

“So you think my brother just invites people he doesn’t like into his bed?”

“That’s different. Sure he likes me as a friend, but that’s all.”

“No. This is Sam we’re talking about. I bet you anything he’s got the date of your first sleepover on a calendar somewhere and he's going to surprise you with a basket of organic strawberries or something on your first month-iversary. The guy’s a sap.”

“You really think that...what we’ve been doing means more than just, I mean, a good night’s sleep?”

The hope in Kevin’s eyes was almost too much to bear. Sam seriously needed to get his head out of his ass if his boyfriend was still this insecure despite their vibrant nocturnal romance.

“A good night’s sleep is a part of how I know it’s serious.” Dean said sincerely, “He’s taking care of you, and last night you proved you’re up to taking care of him. Emotionally.” Dean cringed at his own wording and hasty verbal backpedal, “You keep being good to him, and I won’t have to use my extensive skill set on you in the future.”

“That’s your threat?”

Kevin sounded entirely too amused, so Dean let his pleasant demeanor evaporate. He felt his face go stony as he channeled into it every piece of darkness his soul had to offer.

“I learned how to torture in hell. Literally.”

“Yeah, okay. That’s a threat.” Kevin gulped.

“I got faith in you though, you know?” Dean let a smile peak through to the surface before frowning again, “Don’t fuck it up.”

“I won’t.” Kevin promised, but he didn’t sound at all sure.

\---

Sam was in trouble.

He felt like he was flopping around like an excited puppy every time Kevin was near. He felt himself bouncing, grinning, taking the steps two at a time. He had an urge, that didn’t feel as alien as it should have, to nuzzle into Kevin’s belly as they slept. Fantasies overtook him; warm skin, soft laughter, louder moans, hot, tight heat, velvety hardness...

Did it make him a chauvinist or a homophobe, that he would eagerly seduce a woman where he restrained himself with Kevin? Maybe just vain and weak when it came to sins of the flesh. After everything he’d been through, all the lessons he should have learned, he still wanted nothing more than to stroke Kevin’s face and watch his resolve fade away at the soft touch of Sam’s practiced hands. He wanted to complete debauch Kevin, to tear him apart with sweet kisses and steady thrusts.

Something in him must still be good (demon blood notwithstanding), because every time he’d even come close, every time he’d found the right buttons and knew if he pushed them just-so Kevin would be his, he couldn’t do it. Whenever Sam held Kevin in his arms, felt how much smaller, how _fragile_ Kevin really was, it just felt too much like taking advantage of him. He looked tired and worn thin, with purple bags under those big, dark eyes. The dark circles under his eyes were nothing compared to the more esoteric darkness that now haunted them. Sam hated that Kevin was starting to become like he and Dean, as dead inside as they were, in order to become strong. He wanted to preserve and replenish his innocence, not take more of it away.

It was these two warring sides of him, the desire to both protect and devour, that kept him at a standstill. Kept him doing so many pull ups that he was beginning to lose count.

Though, whether that was because he was well into the triple digits or because of the tingling right between his shoulder blades, he didn’t know. It was so vivid that he kept checking the mirrors in the weight room all through his workout to make sure there wasn’t actually a mark there. There wasn’t. It was just the product of his obsessive need to replay the brief kiss over and over again in his head. The press of Kevin’s lips to his skin had felt even better than he’d imagined it would, and Sam coveted the tiny memory of it like a precious stone.

 _‘There’s no reason to get all Becky-style over this kid.’_  Sam reprimanded himself in the harshest way he could, _‘It’s just because he’s attractive. Do not justify this to yourself. It’s just your sexual urges.’_

The problem was, it was rarely ever ‘just sex’ for Sam. While he’d been soulless, maybe, but not now. Not the real Sam. There was so much more to Kevin than his slender frame, or his gorgeous eyes, or the firm swell of his ass against Sam’s thighs at night.

Kevin was smart. Not just book smart, either, he was clever and quick witted. Kevin always had a plan, always had a comeback. Funny ones, too. He could trash talk a demon like Crowley to his face, all the while rigging some devastating spell behind his back. He was interesting, and like Sam, he liked knowing new things simply for the sake of it. The few times he’d managed to peel him away from the tablet long enough, he’d learned at least as much from Kevin as Kevin had learned from him. Kevin wasn’t brash, but he was daring, and he was thoughtful in every sense of the word. There was something unbelievable sexy about that.

Sam dropped down from the bar and began doing pushups in double time, not bothering to try to count them.

He had it bad. So bad, that he was already coming up with scenarios on how to broach the subject. Maybe he’d sit next to him at the table in the library and pay him a very un-platonic complement. Maybe he’d just slip his hand into Kevin’s, see if Kevin held his hand  back. Maybe he’d just wait until tonight and kiss Kevin while they cuddled in bed. If he did it in the same place Kevin kissed him, that would be alright, wouldn’t it? A tiny kiss on his back? Of course, it would have to be on his shoulder instead because Sam was so much taller than Kevin. And if you’re going to kiss the shoulder, why not kiss along the line of his shoulder...up his neck...nibble on his ear…

 

“You know, Kevin’s already in love with you, you really don’t have to work out half naked just to impress him.”

 

One of Sam’s elbows buckled in the downward lunge of his push up, and it had nothing to do with muscle strength. He popped up awkwardly enough that he was blushing when he faced Dean, who was standing in the doorway with a shit eating grin Sam wanted to punch off his face.

 

“What the hell, man?!” Sam exclaimed, then realizing what his brother had said, “Kevin isn’t-I’m not-This isn’t- I took off my shirt for freedom of movement!”

 

“Don’t use your squeaky voice on me, dude.” Dean stuck his pinky in his ear for emphasis, “You two are peas in a closeted pod, though, I swear. Forget it. We got a case.”

 

“Where?” Glad for the easy subject change, Sam grabbed his tank top from where he’d discarded it on the weight bench and pulled it on.

 

“Abilene, Texas. Black-Eyed Kids.”

 

“Demons?” Sam asked, alarmed, “I mean, I want to stomp them out too, but what else is new?”

 

“Reports say they show up asking to be let in.” Dean informed him, “Almost like they can’t get in unless you let them?”

 

“What? Vampire lore mixed with...demon eyes?” Sam screwed up his face as his gaze turned internal, thinking.

 

“Wacky, I know.” Dean said simply, “Especially since the first sighting was in 1998 and the sightings started up again a week ago.”

“Any deaths?”

“Same parking lot as the original sighting.”

“Well,” Sam sighed, thoughts immediately going to Kevin and a lonely hotel bed, “let’s go.”

 

\---

 

“Text me before you go to bed.”

“Okay.”

“And in the morning too, if you want.”

“Okay.”

“I’d say call, but it might not end up being a good time. I’ll try to call you though, alright.”

“Sounds good.”

“If it’s an emergency, you can call though.” Sam assured, shaking his phone vaguely in Kevin’s direction as if to demonstrate.

“Of course.” Kevin said, rolling his eyes but smiling.

 

“And um…” Sam took a half a step in closer and lowered his voice, “You can sleep in my bed. If you want.”

“O-okay.” Kevin shoved his hands in his pockets and looked down at his feet.

“Stop making out with your boyfriend and COME ON!” Dean’s muted hollar echoed around the Men of Letter’s carport from where the Impala was idling outside on the street.

“Coming!” Sam took a couple aborted steps towards the garage door.

Kevin looked up, face so bright and eager, Sam acted without thinking. Using his height to his advantage, he leaned over and placed a sweet, soft kiss on the shorter man’s lips. It was brief, and chaste, but it left Sam with a shrill tingle ten times what he had felt from the kiss on  his back.

“Well, um...bye then!” Sam gave an awkward little wave as he walked backwards towards the exit.

“Bye!” Kevin called after him, using the hand not touching the place Sam’s lips had been to wave enthusiastically.

Sam let out a puff of breathy, nervous laughter as he collided into a classic chevy ragtop and had to tear his eyes away from Kevin’s shy smile to turn around and look where he was going. He tried to steel himself into something a little less lovestruck and dopey by the time he climbed into the passenger seat of the Impala, but if the look on Dean’s face was an indication, his was failing miserably.

 

\---

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The picture above is what I used as inspiration for Dean’s face for pretty much the entire chapter. I didn't want to put it in the body of the text, but you can't paste pics or links directly into the notes. 
> 
> I had so much fun writing Dean & Kevin’s conversation. Both of them think they’re talking about the same thing, and it’s just too perfect.


	6. Doing the Math

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 6 - Holy crap. So since I last saw you guys I got a pinched nerve in my vertebrae and then caught to flu the next day. Throwing up has never been so painful. My head hurts cause the muscles in my neck are pinched by my atlas bone thing and they’re pulling the muscle connection points on the front of my face. Ouch. Ow ow ow ow ouch. I still wanted to get you guys an update before my wedding (Nov 7th), but that didn’t work out. Then I went on my honeymoon for a week, aaaaand then the holiday season, work, and desperately trying to catch up with school, and here we are, a new year and a new chapter! Sorry it’s short, but I wanted to get it out sooner rather than later.
> 
> Thanks for all your lovely comments.

**Bonus: Cas during this enitre fic**

 

Dean liked having chick-flick talks while he was driving. Well, no, not liked. He never liked having girly, emotional talks. Especially with Sam, who never seemed to have any of his aversions to spilling his guts like Drew Barrymore. But at least driving meant he had a solid excuse for not making eye contact when things got awkward and the added advantage of being able to drive himself off a cliff if it came to that.

“Man, am I gonna have to kick your ass over Kevin?” He asked, keeping his voice light, but sincere.

“What? Why would you?!” Sam demanded.

“Dude, I know your track record okay?”

“What is hell that supposed to mean?!”

“Kevin’s not some damsel in distress you can pork because she’s all like “you’re my hero!” you know”

“Aw, god! Dean, don’t-”

“I mean it Sam. You can’t just hit it and quit it this time. He’s young, you know? It’s a big deal for him.”

“I know, Dean.” Sam’s voice was soft and sad, and that alone was enough for Dean. It meant he wasn’t just being defensive, he had thought about it. “He is young.”

“He’s 18 though, right?” Dean said jovially, going back to gaze at the road. He waited for Sam’s ‘of course dean’ and maybe an annoyed sigh, but when he didn’t get one right away, he glanced back over. Sam had gone pale, staring wide eyed ahead of him.

“Sam? Kevin’s 18, right?.”

“…”

“Sam?” 

“I-I don’t know.” Sam stuttered.

“Dude.” Dean drew out the word until it gave out, and then whistled.

“I haven’t had sex with him.” Sam declared suddenly, a little louder than necessary.

“Man, I’m not the cops, but-Jesus, if he’s not 18 that’s-”

“I haven’t! We’re not-! We don’t-! I haven’t!”

“Okay, okay, I believe you.” Dean lied, “Seriously, though, how old is he?”

“I honestly don’t know, I...oh my god…”

“Do you need to put your head between your knees, or something?”

“I didn’t sleep with him!” Sam all but screeched.

“Alright, calm down, He was talking about college and SATs when we met right, right?”

Sam nodded.

“So he was a senior in highschool! He’s definitely 18 now! It’s been years.”

“But you can take your SATs and start applying to colleges in  your jr year! and if he had one of those weird birthdays-Dean, he could have been 15 when we met him, for all we know!

“Man, stay with me here. We’ll do the math together. Youngest he could have been was 15, right? oldest, 17. Agreed?”

“Agreed” Sam parroted, albeit reluctantly.

“Okay, so, not counting the year we met him, one year alone.”

“God, I’ll never forgive myse-”

“Eh! Eh!” Dean brayed, cutting him short, “No. We’re doing math right now. Focus.”

“Alright.” Sam swallowed, “So, at least one year would make him 16, maybe 17.”

“I would give you the 18 right now, but let’s play devil’s advocate.” Dean winced,  “like, not literally, but you know”

“Yes, Dean I know” Sam deadpanned, rolling his eyes for good measure.

“Okay, then how long would you say he was at Garth’s? About a year?”

“Yeah. That sounds about right.”

“Okay, that’s 17 or 18. And he’s been staying with us at least that long, wouldn’t you say?”

“Yeah, so...18 or 19.”  Sam mumbled, still seeming unsure.

“See?! You’re good.” Dean grinned and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel happily. That was a close one.

“But”

It was Dean’s turn to roll his eyes.

“Dude, you’re good.”

“I’m going to text him”

“What the fuck are you going to say?”

“How old are you?” Sam offered weakly.

“What? Dude, no! He’ll either lie or he’ll get all bitchy because we think of him as a kid!”

“He is a kid.” Sam argued.

“Only so much as we ever were.” Dean countered solemnly.

“I hate that.”

“Yeah…” Dean cleared his throat, uncomfortable.

 

A sad silence consumed the brothers, with only the comfortable rumble of the Impala to break it. The sound was the backdrop of their lives, and it grounded them. The sound of home.

 

“Well then what should I say?” Sam asked finally.

“Nothing.” Dean said, firm.

Sam paused for a beat, before raising up his phone.

“I’m asking him.” he said quickly

“Dude! Okay, just...ask him his birthday.” Dean offered as a way of diverting this disastrous plan, “Then you’ll know if he has one of those funny ones where he would have started early”

“...okay.” 

 

s-[When’s your birthday?]

k-[December 2nd]

 

“What’d he say?”

“December 2nd.” Sam said warily.

“See?” Dean nodded, “You’re good.”

 

There was another buzz and when Sam checked it he let out a long breath and a small smile spread across his features.

 

“What?” Dean asked, instantly curious.

Sam showed him rather than spoke out loud, but a glance was more than enough to read the short text.

 

k-[I’m 19. Relax.]

 

“Told you~” Dean mocked in a sing-song voice.

 

Something suddenly occurred to Sam.

 

s-[we didn't do anything for your birthday]

k-[i haven’t seen you guys do anything for your own either. it’s fine.]

s-[we should do something this year]

k-[fishing for gift ideas? ;)]

s-[maybe ;)]

 

“Oh my gawd” Dean drawled dramatically, almost driving off the road in the capture of Sam’s phone and subsequent struggle to keep it long enough to read the text conversation that had Sam smiling like an idiot,

 

“Winky smiley faces? You guys are so…” Dean caught himself before he said the word ‘gay’  ”...gross.” he finished lamely

 

s-[dildo]

s-[that was dean! i swear to god that was dean!]

 

\---

 

It only took Kevin an hour or so before he wasn’t even sure the kiss actually happened. On the plus side, he’d been texting back and forth with Sam for at least as long, and all he really had to do was ask. But it seemed cheesy to ask straight out ‘did you really kiss me?’, so he didn’t. Instead, emboldened by the lack of face-to-face contact and aided by the winky smiley face, he flirted shamelessly.

 

Although Kevin kept trying not to get his hopes up, it seemed hard to misinterpret. It definitely hadn’t been just a peck, not a jab of stiff, puckered lips against his. Sam had kissed him with tenderness, lips pliant and relaxed. That kind of kiss wasn’t anywhere near platonic at all.

 

Afterwards, Sam had been so adorable, tripping all over himself and blushing an attractive shade of pink, it was difficult for Kevin to try to slip back into his pessimistic comfort zone. It might be strange to think of someone who was 12 years older than him as ‘adorable,’ but when Sam was all gangly limbs and floppy hair, it was hard not to. It made Kevin wonder if Sam had the same insecurities he did. If night after night, Sam had laid beside him feeling like Kevin would never feel the same way he did.

 

It was a three hour drive to Texas, but it seemed like Sam intended to talk to him the whole way. Not that Kevin was complaining. He sat in his usual chair near the angel tablet, but his entire focus was on his phone. He let his chair tilt back, and propped his feet up on the table, thumbs flying across the keys in reply to Sam’s latest message. Kevin couldn’t seem to stop smiling, and every time he thought he was grinning just as broadly as he was able, another text would come in from Sam and renewed joy would bloom across his face.

 

Sam complained about Dean’s music, about all his stupid rules while he was driving, and basically made it very clear that he’d much rather be back at the bunker snuggled up with Kevin than out on the road with his brother. He also asked Kevin about himself, as if he really wanted to know all the minutia of Kevin’s thoughts and feelings. By the time they reached Abilene and were checking into a hotel for the night, Sam knew Kevin liked dubstep but loved eurythmic swing, that he missed the cello more than he’d thought possible, and that there was a particular kind of sweet the consistency of dry peanut butter that he’d tried once and loved but never found again. For his part, Kevin now knew that Sam loved all dogs almost without exception, but he had a soft spot for mutts with a little collie in them, that he worked out all the time because it made him feel like he had something in  his life he could control, and that he hid his hair brush so that Dean wouldn’t find it and make fun of him for having one.

 

s-[checking in now. going to do some reconnaissance. text me when you go to bed.]

k-[will do]

 

Kevin let his chair fall heavily back down on all four legs. He worried his bottom lip, staring at the conversation on the screen for long moment. He began a text, then stopped mid sentence and deleted it, hitting the home screen and setting the phone down next to the tablet. Kevin turned his gaze to the angel tablet and tried to concentrate. No headache, no light, just cuneiform without meaning. Glancing back over at his phone, he stared at it for a few more minutes before finally picking it back up again. He hastily wrote the message, then sent it before he could lose his nerve.

 

\---

 

“Waterfalls!” Dean said cheerfully as he took his time unlocking the hotel door, “Drippy faucets. A babbling brooke!”

 

“Shut up, jerk!” Sam bitched, shifting his weight from foot to foot and squeezing his legs together wobbly.

 

“Bitch.” Dean replied easily.

 

As soon as the door was open, Sam threw his phone on the bed, the first time he’d let go of it since they’d pulled away from the bunker, and dashed toward the bathroom.

 

The phone buzzed, and Dean couldn’t resist having a look. He didn’t even have to touch the phone because the text had popped up on the locked screen.

 

k-[come home safe, okay?]

 

Dean was simultaneously warmed with affection and iced with fear. He always looked after his brother, but the knowledge that he now had someone who could turn the bunker into a home for him, cemented that protective urge in his mind. Dean was going to make sure Sammy didn’t take any unnecessary risks on this case. He was going to deliver Sam back into Kevin’s arms without fail.

  
“Wish you were here, Cas.” He mumbled too low for Sam, who was still emptying his bladder in the bathroom, to hear, “I worry that I’m not enough to keep him safe,  you know?”

**Author's Note:**

> Constructive criticism is always appreciated.


End file.
